Nightwing - Gang War!
by MrMerrey
Summary: All Characters contained within are Copyright of DC Comics. This is my own take on the Batman universe in isolation of the larger DC Universe. *** *** *** *** The streets are up for grabs, and the Gangs of Gotham are battling it out to take control. Can Nightwing protect Gotham without the watchful eye of Batman. Will Batman even let him?
1. Chapter 1

He was horrified.

The gunshot was still ringing in his ears as the blood trickled down his face. His friend's blood. Ian had been his friend for years, they met in college. And now his final thoughts were sprayed across the bar. Tom stared blankly at the smoking barrel as it swung to face him, his eyes tracked down the matte black weapon and along the arm of its wielder. The black sleeve was finely tailored, contrasting with the scarred flesh on the hand that held the gun.

Tom's eyes continued to move up the sleeve to stare at the half-scarred face that glared back at him. He heard a soft clink of metal and the whistle of air being displaced by a rapidly spinning object. The coin fell and was snatched from the air. He continued to stare into the twitching exposed eye that leered back at him. The eye glanced down for a moment before glaring back at him with a refreshed vigour, the evil intent obvious. He opened his mouth to beg, but the barrel of the gun twitched with a burst of light. He felt nothing as everything went black. His body collapsed.

Two-face sniggered before turning to the barman. 'Well two out of three ain't bad for you?' He slid onto a stool, carefully placing his coin in front of him. 'Double whisky, two of them.' The barman's eyes darted around the room, hunting for an escape route, but the bar was now filled with goons lounging at every table, an assortment of weapons deterring him from moving.

'NOW!' Two-face boomed at him. He quickly turned to face the row of liquor bottles mounted on the wall, sweat dripped down his brow as he grabbed a pair of glasses with shaking hands. He pushed each one up against the bottom of the single malt bottle watching the liquid pour, he had never seen a drink pour so slowly. Finally he turned back to face the room, the notorious mob-boss sat head down, softly running his finger over the scratched surface of the coin.

The drinks were quickly placed in front of the coin and the barman jumped back rattling the bottles as he pushed himself away from Two-face. With his unscarred hand Two-face slid the glasses either side of the coin, keeping them equidistant. A few more long moments passed before he picked up the first glass and downed the contents, he let out a pleased sigh before returning the glass to it position and took the other drink. The second drink disappear passed his rough lips before the other glass was returned to its rightful place.

Finally he turned to face his crew, they all sat upright in their seats, waiting for their leader to speak.

'Okay boys, now we wait.'

* * *

><p>'Boss?'<p>

Silence followed the question.

'Uh, Boss?' The man shifted uncomfortably as he waited for a reply. Still nothing.

'Boss? Two-face, he um… He's at Mickey's!'

The figure stirred in the darkness, the top of his head just visible over the top of his chair.

'When?' Came the reply, the word sounding rough and malformed from the lipless mouth.

'Maybe an hour ago?'

'Maybe?' came the hiss from the darkness.

'I dunno Sir. He took out a lot of guys on his way through, the message took some time getting back to us.'

'Deal with it.'

'Ur Yessir, Right away Boss!'

'Oh and Jones?' The voiced continued as his lackey began to turn.

'Boss?' Jones replied hesitantly

'Take the new toys.'

Jones replied with suppressed joy. 'Yeah, that'll work.'

* * *

><p>The room echoed to the sound of plastic on wood, each strike rang out through the sparse warehouse. Each blow was attenuated by a slight grunt as a lone figure trained in the dim light, his movements smooth and precise despite the speed and force that was behind each attack. The wooden training dummy shook and groaned at the mistreatment, small chips of wood flying free with each strike.<p>

With a final burst of energy the wooden dummy flew backwards as a vicious kick cracked it of its mounting screws and it tumbled across the hard concrete floor. Its attacker stood silently by the tattered baseplate, chest heaving in and out from the exertion. A high pitched beeping burst from the man right arm, he let it right for a couple of seconds before lifting to see the cause. He pressed a button on the silver watch, silencing the alarm noting the time. 10.00pm, time to head out.

He left the ruined dummy on the floor, calmly pacing over to a worn wooden desk, he placed the smooth black eskrima sticks down and began unfastening his watch. He gazed around the empty space, trying to see the potential but was constantly reminded that it could never be same as his old hideout. He smiled slightly at memories, and of the wonder he had felt when he had first been there.

Those day where behind him now, He had to be his own man, and that meant his own space to operate out of, though he would probably be allowed to share with Bruce if he asked, he couldn't bring himself to. Slowly he walked to the tall, black steel safe that stood by the wall. It was the only high tech addition he had currently managed to make to the warehouse. He placed his hand against the monitor and watched the dim blue light trace up and down his hand. After several passes, the light faded and a solid click came from within the container.

He took his hand from the monitor and watched as the door slid away, revealing the bright blue bird emblem hidden behind it. He took the thick Nomex suit out, feeling the Kevlar lining inside. After several minutes the suit was on, he was one of the few people who knew the difficulty of getting into an all in one, skin tight bodysuit. Stepping into the boots, he felt the soft click of the sockets connecting to those on the bodysuit, the same click came from the gauntlets as he slid those over his forearms.

Finally, he took up his mask, the flexible polymer showing the compact circuitry mounted in the back as he lifted it to his face. The mask pressed into the pre-applied gum on his face, he adjusted the position slightly before wiping away the excess gum with a rag.

His transformation was complete, he wasn't Dick Grayson anymore. He was Nightwing!


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of glass breaking filled the bar. Every window was shattered by gunfire, shots peppered the back wall, alcohol poured over the floor. Three of his men fell to the floor, two of them dead the third, gasping in pain as dark blood gushed from his liver. Two-face grinned, it had begun. His crew began firing through the broken windows as they ducked for cover, he remained seated at the bar rolling his precious coin across his knuckles. Shots flew past him, though none were particularly close. He slowly turned his head to one side, feeling a satisfying click come from his neck before sweeping up his vintage Thompson leant against the bar.

In true super-villain style he paced across to the tattered doorway and opened fire. His fire cut through a huddled group of men attacking the bar. He turned toward 3 large SUV's parked across the street, his eyes narrowed before he could fire. Each had a large machine gun mounted on the roof, each barrel swung around to face the infamous gang leader. He was forced to dive back into the bar as heavily calibre shells hurtled at him, each round tore chunks of brick from the front of the bar, a number ripped apart some of his crew.

With unwarranted calm Dent reached into his jacket and pulled out a radio, he growled into the mic.

'Now!'

The fire was too heavy for him to move into a suitable position to view the completion of his order, but after several minutes the gun fire stopped. He slid the radio back into his pocket and stood, taking time to brush the excess debris from his fine suit. He racked the slide on his gun before heading through the door once more. With a sickly smile he surveyed the scene, the rest of his crew had gathered around the SUV's, a couple already toying with the heavy weapons on the roof, his plan for them to hide across the street had paid off, two crews was clearly better than one.

He walked calmly towards the bullet ridden vehicles, the crew knowing to move clear of their boss without needing to be told. He head straight toward the lead vehicle, the coin turning over and over in his free hand. He reached the driver's door before tossing in the air, savouring the moment as is fell back towards his hand. He peered into his palm, smiling at the answer before moving to the back door and stepping in, a moment later he appear through the sunroof behind the machine gun. He stroked the barrel of the weapon before dropping the Thompson on the backseat, taking a firm grasp of the heavy gun.

'We will have to thank Mr. White for his donation.' He announced to crude laughter and cheers. 'Let the neighbourhood know, they're under new management'

More lurid noises came from his men as he slammed his fist on the roof of the vehicle, a second later the engine roared to life and the vehicle lurched away. He leant back on the gun as he watched his crew head off the start securing the loyalty of the local businesses, protection rackets had always been the bread and butter for crime in Gotham and even the greatest villains needed cash. Not everything could be stolen.

His ears pricked up as the blaring of sirens could be heard a few blocks away. The police would do very little to stop his crew now and he would be long gone before they got to the bar. He would have to prepare for the next round, the Shark wouldn't let this go. Even with the elaborate nature of crime these days, you needed the basics to get anywhere.

The former DA searched the base of the machine gun, finding the pin holding on its mount and pulling it free. The weapon slid free and he dropped it into the car before disappearing inside himself just as a cop car rounded the corner ahead of them. The vehicle sped past, its sirens wailing unaware of the villainous crime boss passing by.

* * *

><p>Hidden on the roof tops, Dick heard a shout of pain from a nearby alleyway followed by a muffled threat that he couldn't quite make out. Effortlessly he leapt across the gap to the fire escape opposite before grappling along the narrow side street towards the sound. He allowed himself to swing down, coming rest halfway up the building his line was anchored to.<p>

He could see the scuffle in question, three figures surrounded a weary looking man in a cheap, ill-fitting suit. The acrobat used the give in the line to run along the weathered bricks before perching on a narrow windowsill high above. He gave a cursory glance inside ensuring the room within was empty so he would not be disturbed, a sparse but tidy apartment set behind the glass but no signs of anyone being home. His focus returned to the matter at hand as a nasty kick struck the back of the victim's knee, forcing him to the floor with a bark of pain.

'Just give us the combination, an' you can go.' Came a falsely warm voice from beneath a hood. Nightwing's training had him begin profiling the man without thinking. Male, early thirties, local accent, right handed but weight on his left leg, possible injury to his right leg.

His attention turned to the other two assailants. They were both stood behind their victim, the first was a large man who was holding the collar of his weeping prey. His head was shaved, he held a small blade in his other hand, appeared to be mid-twenties, slightly over-weight. Apparently following the older man's instructions. The final figure was also hooded, stood back from the group slightly keeping watch on the street. Slim frame, shifting nervously. Clearly the youngest, also inexperienced. Held a large kitchen knife awkwardly in both gloved hands.

The first man unleashed a rough backhand on his quarries face, Nightwing struck. He let himself drop from his perch, letting his body roll over in the air, adjusting himself to be above the group leader as he fell. He landed hard on the man's shoulder felling the pop as his arm dislocated, he leapt up again forcing the man into the floor, knocking him unconscious. He sailed over the head of the bald head of his next target, grabbing his shoulders, his momentum allowed him to throw the large man over his head and crashing into some trash cans along the alley way. He looked up to pin point the last crook just catching sight of a trailing leg disappear into a doorway.

He stood and approached the dark recess, staying out of sight, he kicked a stray can across the threshold and the knife swung wildly outward. With practiced calm he grabbed the wrist and squeezed, the shiny weapon clattered to the floor, he pulled hard, hearing a feminine scream just before him elbow connected with jawbone and the scream was cut off.

He let the body slump against the wall, the hood falling back to reveal the young woman's face, blood trickling from her mouth following his precise strike. Nightwing turned the old man in the suit, he hadn't moved an inch during his rescue. Dick began walking towards him but was interrupted by the blaring of sirens that shot past then entrance of the alley way. He paused for a moment before dashing out of the alleyway and grappling up to the rooftops once again.

* * *

><p>He had been watching from the window of the apartment he had discreetly purchased, at the commotion in the bar across the street. He had watched Two-face stroll in, and worked out what was happening inside from the pair of gun shots that came from within several minutes later.<p>

'That was reckless Harvey.' He mumbled to himself as he stared down at Mickey's. He glanced at his watch, 9.38. He methodically programmed an alarm, glancing up at the ceiling for a moment as he did some calculations. 10.57. He smiled to himself before turning from the window and slumping into a tattered office chair. Scattered around him lay pieces of electronic equipment, circuit boards and wiring. He began working, soldering wires and drilling holes to create his next contraption. He was about to connect up some more wires hen the alarm on his watch went off.

The time had flown by, he softly pressed the button before silently standing and approaching the window once more. As he stood there, he watched as three blacked out SUV's pull up just below his apartment, armed thugs burst out of the vehicles, they took position in front of the bar. He noticed one of them hanging back from the group, the man gave a quick glance up at his window. Anger filled him at the idiot's indiscretion, he didn't like it when his men did stupid things to betray his plans. The rest of the thugs opened fire on the bar, he watched as the fool jumped into action to join his supposed allies in their attack.

Without thought he pressed his face up against the glass, his breath fogging up the window beneath his chin. He watched as the distinctive black and white suit of Two-face appeared in the door way and cut down a group the attackers with rapid gun fire. He let out a snigger as he watched him duck back inside as heavy machine guns came to life atop the SUV's.

'Arrogant as ever Harv!' he continued to chuckle.

He peered forcefully into the bar, he could see little puffs of red as bullets met bodies inside but was unable to see who it was that had been hit. His heart raced in his chest as watched, and felt sorrow take over as the gun fire stopped hit the bar. Glaring down at the heavy guns, ha had to admit he was slightly surprised when he saw Two-face's crew had burst from the shadows and saved their leader. The surprise attack had been swift, silencing the aggressors in mere moments.

'Not bad, you're learning my bi-polar friend.'

He stepped back from the glass and noticed his condensed breath on the cold surface. He ran his finger through the moisture, drawing his trademark question mark before returning to work.

* * *

><p>'Sir!' He was dreading this conversation, he had never really dealt with his boss directly, but after Jones had been killed he had drawn the short straw and got shoved into the office to deliver the bad news.<p>

The chair span to face him, but the figure remained silent.

'Sir?' He paused to think about how to phrase his next statement. 'Two-face, he killed the guys.'

'All of them?' came the sinister reply.

'Ur Yeah. And he took the guns.' He flinched as he finished the sentence, expecting the violent wrath the Great White Shark was known for to come bursting out.

'Leave.'

'What? Like outside or…?'

'FUCK OFF!' The Shark scream at him. He stumbled for the door, the thug barely able to operate the handle in his panic.

Great White Shark let out an angry breath as the door finally slammed shut. He knew that Two-face wouldn't stop with taking part of the east end, and it was close enough to Park Row for Two-face to hold it without too much trouble. Worse still if he didn't put up a fight, the other gangs would think his territory easy pickings. Penguin would be first to try and grab a piece of the action, and Black Mask need to re-establish ground he had lost over the past few years. Hell, even Joker could get involved and he was supposed to be locked away in Arkham Asylum.

What he needed was to prove his authority, he needed to enforce that he was not to be messed with. He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out his leather bound address book. To anyone who didn't know his system, the book contained utter nonsense but to him it was a record of almost every hired gun in the world. He didn't mind getting his hand dirty, but the right name doing the work for you could be enough to keep people scared, and all it took was money.

He flicked through the pages, noting some of the possible names he could use, others that he never would. He needed a professional, not some anarchistic gun slinger. His eyes finally came to rest on an entry, he had heard good things but never hired them himself. He smiled as he picked up the telephone, he wouldn't make contact himself but he knew who to ask to set up a meeting.

* * *

><p>He surveyed the scene, Police were trampling over evidence, 5 squad cars had shown up. Most of the officers had their side arms ready to use, one had even resorted to pulling the combat shotgun from their car. Dick had seen this situation too many times, Gang violence was a constant problem but too often got overshadowed by some villain's grand scheme and was left to fester while he and the other Heroes had to deal with other problems.<p>

'Nightwing?' came a voice in his ear. He jumped slightly, cursing himself for letting the voice surprise him.

'Go Ahead.' He replied.

'I've got you as being on scene at the East End shootout?' Came the gravelly voice.

'Affirmative Batman.'

Bruce always made a point of using their hero monikers whenever they used the radio. Dick had been chastised enough for forgetting to do so when he was younger.

'What can you see?'

'Looks like a shootout, not sure who it was between, but this area is supposed to be controlled by Great White Shark.' He replied, his stepfather would have known this anyway, but at least if he said it first he wouldn't get a history lesson about it.

'Keep looking, Let me know what you find.' The signal cut off before he could reply. He surveyed the scene again. The officers were still wandering around they had at least set a cordon up to stop civilians wandering through, Dick noticed one was listening to his radio. He quickly re-tuned to the Police frequency.

'…multiple assailants near your location.' Dick missed the start of the message.

'We have a crime scene here?' The officer argued, His voice coming through about half a second after he spoke in the street below.

'We don't have any other officers nearby. Split up and deal with it, we have more Gang related violence in the surrounding area.' Came the female voice in reply.

Dick watched the officer throw an arm up in despair a moment before his voice came over the radio.

'Fine, where are we going?' The frustration obvious. In his voice.

'Reports coming from nearby businesses, a grocers on 4th street has been broken into, a jewellers on 2nd and multiple disturbances on main.'

The officer did not reply, but gestured to the others to move out. After a couple of minutes, only one car remained, Nightwing made his way across the street.

Dropping silently into the bar, avoiding the officers still protecting the scene outside, he began his evaluation. He saw several bodies dressed in the distinctive Black and White boiler suits that belong to Two-Face's crew. By the bar lay two bodies that appeared to be civilians, both with close range gunshot wounds to the face. Kneeling, he ran a finger around the edge of a large crater, a .50 calibre bullet, maybe bigger. Where had they got a weapon of this size from? Penguin probably, but would he sell to a rival gang? Probably if the price was right.

More investigation led him behind the bar, the body of the bar tender was slumped in the foetal position, several large bloody holes in the body, stray shots that had pierced the thick wood of the bar, killing the man as he hid. He tapped a button on his left gauntlet.

'Batman, looks like Two-face has been making a power play.' He advised.

'Okay, get out of there, I'll handle it from here.'

'Its fine, I can deal with it.' Dick replied irritated, Bruce was always a control freak. It was part of the reason he set up on his own.

'Two-face is dangerous, stay out of it.'

'I know he is, that is why I'm here.' Dick snapped back before cutting the channel.

He stomped out of the bar, taking a deep breath of the night air before firing his grapple line out over the city streets and disappearing.


	3. Chapter 3

'Move it!' Stones growled. 'Shark wants this neighbourhood brought under control.'

Stones had been in Great White sharks crew for several years, but had never been anything more than muscle until the previous number two got gunned down. Now he had been hand-picked to take the fight to Two-Face. Mr White had made it clear that the most important thing was fear. The people of Gotham had to fear him more than they feared the ex-DA.

He walked through the hallway of a rundown apartment block, his guys had just kicked down the door of an elderly couples home and where making it abundantly clear that the couples rent was due to Mr White from now on. The shark didn't even own the building, but then that was the power of fear.

Over the next twenty minutes they worked their way up the floors, giving every tenant a rough reminder of who ran the streets of Gotham, and those that didn't pay the rent in cash paid in blood instead.

They reached the fifth floor, the top floor with only 3 apartments, they kicked down the first door finding it empty, the next contained a lone man, living with his cats who quickly paid up with very little encouragement required. Stones approached the last door, sat at the end of the hall.

'There's no one in that one man, just leave it.' One of the guys said behind him.

'How the hell would you know, Rick?' he said, turning his head to peer over his shoulder.

'I just do okay, ain't no lived there in months.' The man answered uneasily 'I've done collections here before, that one is always empty?'

Stones looked back at the door. 'How did you get in? Y'know to check it was empty?'

'Ur It was unlocked?' The other guy was starting to sound nervous

Stones tried the handle. 'Seems like its locked now?' He glared back down the hall, Rick looked really uncomfortable now.

'Well we can't get in anyway then can we? Bad Luck, lets go.' Stones was intrigued by Rick's behaviour.

'Come here, you try it.'

Rick stepped back down the hall as Stones walked towards him. 'Me? I'm sure if a big guy like you can't get it open. I'm never gonna manage.'

Stones said nothing, he stepped to one side and pointed to the door. Rick got the message and slowly moved up the hallway, Stones noticed the sweat pouring down the scrawny man's face. He turned away from Stones as he passed him, waiting for some violent outburst, but none came.

Slowly he continued along the hallway, knowing that his Boss, his real Boss wouldn't be happy about him allowing one of his hideouts to be compromised. He reached for the door handle, hesitantly waiting for some kind of lethal trap to trigger itself. He twisted the handle, locked. Rick let out a breath of relief before turning back to Stones and the rest of the crew. He saw the heavy sole of Stones boot as he turned.

There was a dull wet crack inside his chest and the boot connected, a shockwave of pain swept through him followed by another in his spine a second later as the door buckled behind him. He slumped on the floor of the apartment, the room bare of any furniture, only coils of wiring, metal canisters and computer parts lay scattered haphazardly. Rick let out a wheeze of pain, Stones stepped over his body and into the room.

A quiet buzzing sound drew his attention, he peered around the room, hunting for the source his eyes fell upon a small camera mounted on the ceiling in the corner of the room. He waved to the two men behind him, they tentatively entered the room.

'Oh dear…' Came a voice, crackled and distorted through old speakers. 'It appears despite his best efforts, poor as they were, my friend couldn't stop you blundering in?'

'Who is this? Show yourself?'

'Oh my, what a cliché line…' The distorted voice replied. A moment later, thick bars fell across the doorway from a hidden recess above the frame. Stone's men ran to the bars, both desperately trying to lift them. They didn't move.

'Where are you?' Stones growled, staring back at the camera in the corner of the room.

'I'll ask the questions. Now then my simple minded new toys?' the voice took on a faux playful edge now. 'Gathered in Cans, All around us, save yourself with a deep breath? What am I?'

'I don' understand man?' His men had stopped trying to open the bars.

'Shut up, we need to get out here?' Stones scowled at the men, trying to work out what was happening.

'Are you not even going to try? The voice asked with a slight laugh. 'I've literally spelled it out for you?'

The three men looked uneasily at each other, none of them spoke.

'Oh, I'm guessing you three didn't do very well at school? Did you?' The voice gave a sinister chuckle. 'The answer is Gas!'

As soon as the word was spoken then canisters around the room hissed with the release of pressure, thick green gas releasing into the air. The room filled quickly, Stones staggered as his head swam, he could just make out the other men desperately trying to open the bars to escape, but the smoke soon consumed them, poisoning their lungs in a matter of seconds.

Stones dived towards a window, slamming his gloves hand through the glass. Without hesitation he thrust his head out into the crisp night air, taking in a deep breath before coughing horribly. He leant out the window for several minutes, as his head slowly cleared. His chest burnt with every breath, the noxious fumes had caused him some serious harm. He finally slumped back inside after the gas had escaped, still spluttering he looked into his gloved palm to see thick globules of blood where he had coughed into his hand.

He opened his eyes, tears still streaming down his face. To his surprise, a figure stood in the centre of the room in a bright green suit, he could just make out the stylised question marks covering the fabric. The man was prodding Rick's body with the end of a long metallic cane with another question mark mounted at the end.

'Riddler!' He growled through blood covered teeth. The man turned to face him, eyes just hidden beneath a bowler hat that matched the suit.

'Hello!' Riddler greeted him with exaggerated surprise, pacing over to him while twirling his cane playfully.

'I'm quite surprised you're still alive?' Without warning the cane came swinging down at Stones' head. The metal struck padded cloth as he grabbed the cane mid-strike. Stones grinned back at the Riddler having foiled his attack.

'Shocked in fact?' The Riddler smiled down at him before a massive electrical charge was release from the cane.


	4. Chapter 4

They had moved their base of operations to a disused factory on the edge of the Shark's territory. The plan necessitated he remain close the action, they had coerced a lot of new members into the crew, so he needed to make sure they stayed loyal.

He had them reworking the SUV's design with paint stripper and blowtorches, he needed them to be properly marked as his property. He could hear them outside working away, the hiss of the blowtorches attenuated by the sound of metal swelling with the heat.

He sat in what he assumed was once the factory managers office, a large oak desk still in place, abandoned when the factory closed. A few scraps of paper still remained, showing blue-prints of some kind of electrical wire making machine, he glanced at them briefly before tossing them on the floor to the left of the room. The door to the office slowly creaked open, a tall slim member of the gang walking in.

'Got the take Boss.' He said as he lifted a large case up onto the desk.

'Good. How much?'

'Bought $18k.' he replied confidently.

Two-face leant forward to open the case when a loud bang came from the factory floor followed by a pained scream. Dent's hand hovered over the release clip for a moment before he stood up. Without a word he swept past the taller man and through the door. He looked look across to one of the SUV's sat an odd angle, the unblemished side facing him. He paced across the factory floor, pulling his silver pistol from his right hand holster with his jacket, gripping it in his unscarred hand.

He approached the wonky SUV and dragged the tip of his weapon across the bonnet, making his way around it to the source of the noise. He found another of his goons crouched by the rear wheel, the tyre burst, a run of melted rubber across the rim where a blowtorch had damaged it. The man's hand was trapped beneath the deflated wheel, a small pool of blood trickled from beneath. The vehicle had shifted as the tyre burst, crushing the fingers with ease, the man still whimpered as his employer loomed over him.

Carefully Two-face reached into his top jacket pocket, the infamous coin revealed from within the fabric. Two-face watched the coin roll across his fingers for a moment before tossing it into the air, he didn't take his eyes off it as it span. It came to rest in his hand, and he savoured the moment before looking at the result. He didn't say anything, he didn't give away the outcome in any way. After several long moments of silence the trapped, injured man went to speak.

BANG! The gun fire before he got a word out, his body fell to the floor. A fresh bullet hole placed in the centre of his forehead. The gun rose to the mob bosses lips, and he blew softly to clear the smoke before it slid back inside his jacket. Without a word he turned and headed back towards the office.

* * *

><p>It was terribly cold. An angry piercing cold, attenuated by the howling wind. He stood alone atop the office block, staring out across the city, eyes not really focusing on any particular detail. The echo of distant sirens could be heard, as it always could be. He ignored the whining sound, taking in the view of the city.<p>

He had been there for almost half an hour, he face starting to go numb from the cold. A gunshot rang out from a nearby street, a weary sigh was released as he heard it, trying to force it from his mind for the moment. More shots soon follow, the depression of Gotham City forcing its way into his mind. With a final breath he jumped. He fell, arms out stretched watching the pavement below, he waited until he reached about 3 floors from the asphalt before firing this grapple, the steel cable piercing into the night air with hiss of Co2. Smoothly he swung along the street towards the firefight.

Dick let his final swing carry him low along the street, giving him a good look at the skirmish ahead.

Another gang fight, he could make out 3 figures crouched behind some large refuse bins, taking pot shots into the street. Generic clothing, which meant they were probably Great White Sharks men, and he could make a good guess at who they had fallen out with. He swung up again and across the street, over the fighting, nobody noticing his passing.

He released the grapple hook and flipped head over heels before landing with a short slide atop an apartment block, a small cloud of dust kicked up by his impact. He span to view the street below. A number of cars had been abandoned by members of the public escaping the conflict, one was set ablaze already, the smooth paint work cracked and peeling in the heat. The street was poorly lit, only the muzzle flashes provided broken visibility, the angry faces of the gunmen starkly backlit by their wrathful shooting. A number of men clashed with bats, pipes and other melee weapons along the sidewalks.

The centre of street was littered by bodies and bullet holes. The smooth asphalt stained red, as those armed with guns unleashed violence upon each other. Dick noted to himself that neither of the gangs leaders were present, the goons who had no real interest in the fighting left to duke it out on their own. He began to analyse the situation, planning his actions.

There were three brawls on the sidewalk and another had spilled into an electronics store, but they could wait, the main problem was the guns. There were 6 of Two-face's henchmen hidden behind cars, while 4 of the Sharks crew were up the street behind dumpsters, however outnumbered gang hand a mix of SMG's and Assault rifles. The two tone garbed opponents struggling to hit back with pistols and a shotgun. He could just take one crew out, it would leave him wide open to the other side's armoury.

A dull scream and a cloud of red signalled the death of another of Dent's hired help. Thoughtfully he ran a finger across a button on his left gauntlet, a small nozzle extending from just above the wrist. Staying low he ran across the rooftop to a large billboard, Gotham City Radio advertised across it. He allowed the small nozzle to dispense a thick blue gel onto both support struts and the main post holding the heavy billboard upright. A cursory glance to the street below ensured his targets were still in position, quickly he ducked behind the billboard.

Nightwing paced back a few steps, slowing his breathing to focus his mind. He pushed the button on his gauntlet and began running, the gel detonated in muffled explosions, the billboard lurched towards him as he leapt up, his momentum tipping it back towards the street as he perched on the back of it, skilfully dispensing a long streak of gel across the rear of the wooden panelling. He allowed the board to begin to fall, feeling it catch the cold night air beneath it before leaping free from it.

The button on his gauntlet was pressed again, the fresh line of gel flashing with light as it exploded, the large structure fracturing into several large chunks falling upon Sharks gunmen below. His grapple line fired, biting into masonry high above him, he swung across the street once more, sliding a carefully crafted wingding from a pouch at his waist.

He touched against the wall, his body naturally curling up to absorb the impact ready to spring away, the wingding flew from his hand. He snapped his legs straight, propelled down to street below. He just caught a glimpse of his project hitting one of two-faces nameless thugs in the temple before he crashed into the owner of the shotgun, the man collapsed beneath him as bones broke under his weight. Fluidly he rolled away, snatching up a stray bottle as he did so, he turned as he stood. The bottle was unleashed against another enemy shattering against his chest.

The two remaining men had started to react to him, his eskrima sticks were in his hand in one fluid motion. A casual left swing took the pistol from one man's hands, a yelp of pain as finger cracked, he continued around the victim, ducking a shot from the last gun, the bullet releasing brick dust from the wall behind Dick as it hit. His right stick connected with the man's knee as he ducked a snap kick to his chest as he fell sent the gunman sprawling across the floor. Dick span again as his last target swung for him, he blow catching him on the shoulder but his trained body ignored the pain. Instinctively Nightwing threw his head forward causing his opponents nose to spray blood. He watched the man stagger away from him before planting a violent kick on the already ruined nose to finish him off. He slipped another wingding free a prepared to throw it down the street, he paused. The other gang members still upright were fleeing down side alleys, and the dust was still settling from the desolation the falling billboard had caused, nobody was getting up.

He smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Sat alone in the dark, he mused over what he had heard. Stories of a violent Gang War building in the street, ready to explode. It wouldn't take much to bring the other gangs of Gotham into the fold, some spark to ignite the whole situation.

He couldn't have that, it was too dangerous to let this get out of hand. He had seen that Nightwing had got involved a few nights ago, but all he had managed was to delay the attacks. Nothing more. He needed to keep this under control, under his control.

He knew that Two-face was making a power play, and the Great White Shark had been uncharacteristically restrained in his retaliation. And that most likely meant he was planning something big. But what he didn't understand was why now? There were always small clashes between the gangs, they were unavoidable. But Harvey had made quite a statement by staging an ambush to take control away from Shark. He didn't understand what had motivated the man, but then it could have just been a chance toss of that infernal coin.

No, Dent had far more control over his actions that it first appeared, the coin was only his reinforcement not the thought behind the Ex-DA's actions. He used it to justify his decisions, not make them in the first place. He tapped his fingers on the smooth surface in front of him, thoughts racing through his mind on what to do.

He heard the familiar whine of the elevator behind him, several moments later the door slid open and he heard the clink of glasses behind him but he didn't turn around. He knew what was coming. With his back still turned he silent spoke the words he knew were coming.

'Refreshments, Master Bruce?'

Inwardly he smiled as the man approached him. He span in his chair to face his butler and friend. A glass of fine scotch met his gaze, friendly eyes visible behind it.

'Thank you, Alfred.'

* * *

><p>The cell phone rang the moment he got off the plane. It was his employer, he knew it would be, all his clients were controlling and it was why they hired him and not a run of the mill thug. He had always considered himself a surgeon, or an artist, or both. He let the phone ring a couple more times before answering.<p>

'Yes?' his gravelly voice barely a whisper.

'You have arrived on schedule I assume?' The voice of the other end almost as sinister as his own.

'Yes!'

I have arrange for your equipment to be collected at the docks. I will have it brought to my office.'

'No. I will collect it myself.' His voice elevated slightly, he didn't like being without his tools any longer than necessary.

'I already have my men there, they can be trusted. I assure you.' The voice on the other end of the phone softened in an attempt to appease him.

'I don't trust anyone. They touch anything, they die.' He growled into the phone.

'Very well. I will have them guard the delivery until you arrive.' The voice took on an irritated tone.

'They had better Shark. If they mess with anything, my rate doubles.' He smiled, but didn't let it show in his voice.

'Don't worry Mr Lawton. Everything will be in order.' Great White Shark slyly replied.

He cut the call off. He was continued into the terminal, his long coat billowing in the evening air.

* * *

><p>Two-face stood in in his warehouse, surrounded by a group of his men, three bloodied men in handcuffs on their knees in front of him. The dusty floor peppered with spots of saliva and blood. The wind outside howling against the thin metal walls, the rattle of rain against the shutters a constant backing track to the jeers of his goons. He did love being a crime lord.<p>

'Gentlemen, it seems that you have chosen the wrong side!' He announced this to the room, but the statement was for the restrained prisoners. He got an approving cheer from his allies.

'Come on man.' One of the weary men pleaded with him. 'We was just followin' orders. We can follow your orders from now on. We don't care! The Shark ain't nothing to us.'

Two-face sniggered as one of the other men tried to cut him off. 'Shuddup man!' He said through gritted teeth. Trying not to let his oppressor notice, but obviously he did.

'Well aren't you keen to live?' Harvey leant forward as he spoke to the begging man. 'Certainly more so than your friend?' He raised his matte black pistol to gesture to the other that had spoken. The third man remained silent.

He gave one of his own lackeys a nod towards the second man. 'Are you sure he doesn't want to live?' Dent sprayed saliva through his tattered cheek, it coated the pleading mans face.

'We all want to live, urm Sir?' The more he begged the more he disliked the man, at least the other guy had some guts.

'Well you may change your mind about that?' He felt rather than saw the swing of his man's sledgehammer.

A huge cascade of blood and brains sprayed across the warehouse, a number of his men caught in the spray. They let out disgusted groans as the blood soaked them, those men who weren't hit laughed at their supposed comrade's misfortune.

The begging man whimpered and sobbed as he watched his friend die, the horror evident at the horrible mess the hammer had made of the victims soft face.

'What about your other pal?' Two-face paced over to the third man, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal. His face resolute and stubborn.

He pulled his other gun from his pocket, the shiny silver finish contrasting with the other weapon. He placed against the man's temple. 'Well?'

'Please!' The whimpering man continued to beg.

'You shouldn't kill me.' The third man finally spoke. Two-faces gang went quiet, anticipating their bosses rage.

'And why would that be?' Harvey knelt in the dust in front of him, his face pressed up against the face of his prey.

'We have a mutual friend who wouldn't like it.' He sniggered. Two-face growled, staring into his eyes before his was unexpectedly interrupted before he could speak.

'Well you shouldn't have got yourself caught then? The voice came from the far corner of the warehouse, it was dripping with arrogance.

Dent enjoyed watching the colour drain from the man's face, his pupils dilate at the comment. He knew who it was, the tone was unmistakable.

'Riddler?' He stood again as he spoke.

'Harvey! You campaign is going well I see!' Riddler tipped his hat with his cane and gave him a slight bow. 'Almost as well as your election?'

'What do you want?

'Oh my good man, don't be so hostile.' Riddler walked across the space with swagger, twirling his cane as he did so.

'So you've got your fingers in Sharks crew, I see?' Two-face squared up to Riddler.

'I have my fingers in…' Riddler paused to pluck a stray hair from the unblemished side of Dents suit. 'In everyone's crew. Even yours!'

'What?' He grabbed the mastermind's hand, twisting the fingers back to force the slim man to his knees.

'Don't be naïve Dent!' Riddler spat angrily despite the pain. 'Don't think for a second you get a free pass because I'm helping you!'

He let the man's fingers go. Riddler rubbed his knuckle through his fingerless gloves before continuing.

'So you're just going to kill them all then?' Riddler swept past him towards the kneeling figures. The gang stiffened at his approached. Inwardly he smiled.

'We had been considering it?' Two-face still glared at the green clad man.

'Well I would suggest you keep one of them alive? To put in the dock, you could cross examine him.'

'And what if I was going to do that anyway?'

'Well know that a true genius has suggested it, you know it is a good idea?' Riddler smirked.

'Then let us see who is going to talk?' Dent slipped his hand into his jack pocket, slightly excited at the touch of the cold metal of the coin against his fingers.

'I am afraid I may have to make that decision for you?' Riddler said gleefully.

The tall man skilfully swiped a pistol from the belt of a thug before ducking under his punch, his attempt to keep hold of his weapon easily avoid. Riddler brought his cane up against the man's chest, pushing him away while looking over his weapon.

'It's not you decision to make!' Harvey bellowed at Riddler, holding his coin up to show where the decision should lay.

'Not this time!' The pistol barked as the Riddler's informant fell to the floor, blood coating the dusty floor of the warehouse.

Harvey grunted angrily, his black gun now pointing at his supposed ally.

'I'm afraid I can't have you learning all my secrets!'

Harvey tossed the coin, Riddler leant casually on the green cane, tossing the pistol back to its owner.

The coin came down and Two-face snatched it viciously from the air. Shiny side up, he let out one more angry breath, considering for a moment ignoring the coin before lowering his weapon.

'Well this was fun! Adieu!' With that Nigma strolled back out of the warehouse, with all the arrogance he had when he came in.


End file.
